


In Which The Avengers Confuse Daredevil

by Chicago_Brown



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Canon Disabled Character, Crack Treated Seriously, Disability, Don't be confused by all the characters they're mostly cameos, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 12:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicago_Brown/pseuds/Chicago_Brown
Summary: When Matt gets swept up in all the Avenger's mess, he understands pretty much none of it. Turns out they don't really understand him either.





	In Which The Avengers Confuse Daredevil

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so a quick backstory; I actually wrote this a couple of years ago, just after Daredevil season two aired in fact. I wrote it on a train in my trusty notebook whilst on route to visit my family in Bournemouth. Then I lost my trusty notebook. Then I moved to Guernsey. Anyways, now I'm back and the notebook, along with this story,were found a couple of weeks ago.
> 
> I considered updating it to incorporate the six films (SIX FILMS!) that have been made since, as well as all the later Netflix shows, but eventually I decided to publish it as is, so it could be up in time for Infinity War.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy.

Sometimes, Matt Murdock seriously considered giving up on the news.

  
When he was younger, other kids would watch Transformers, G.I. Joe and Power Rangers, and they would either pity or mock him for his inability to watch with them. Honestly he wouldn’t have, even if he could; he was never one for make believe.

  
His dad used to joke that he was the only child in the world who listened to the radio.

  
Matt liked to know what was going on, here and now. Facts, solid and uncompromising.

  
Unfortunately, what was going on here and now was aliens invading New York, then London. Killer robot armies destroying an entire eastern European country. Super spy organisations battling evil science Nazis. Giant green rage monsters, girls who can make earthquakes with their hands, death worshiping ninja cults.

  
Oh, and the Norse gods were real now.

  
The news had Power Rangers beat.

  
_Not that I’m much better_ , he would grumble to himself, on the mornings when he would wake up with more bruises than teeth. He was going to be President of The United States when he was a kid, not a vigilante who dresses up like Satan.

  
What he was doing was important, he knew, but it was also more than a little ridiculous.

  
…

  
Ridiculous, but not unique.

  
Of all the people he could have ran into- literally, it was a very confusing couple of seconds- it was the kid who dressed up like a spider.

  
After they had both picked themselves up and Matt had apologized to the homeless man they had woken up, Spiderman started blabbering about how he was a big fan, Wilson Fisk had to be stopped and something about an octopus.

  
Fifteen minutes later, he and his new best friend were battling a heavy set man with four mechanical tentacles attached to his back, who was robbing a bank.

  
…

  
He was front page news the next day.

  
Karen had used a lot of descriptive words in her article, which was good because he was damned if he had any clue what had happened.

  
…

  
Iron Man was next.

  
Evidentially his ninja death cult and Matt’s ninja death cult had joined forces, and now people were exploding.

  
“If you ever need a flame throwing pitchfork or something, hit me up buddy.” Stark had said, clapping him on the back as they walked away from the smoldering body of an honest-to-God dragon.

  
“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll do that.” He’d replied, trying not to throw up.

…

“So you’re friends with Tony Stark now?” Melvin had asked him the next night, while he repaired the fire damage on Matt’s armor.

“I think so?” He’d answered, going over the events in his head.

“Cool.”

…

The Black Widow had sauntered into his life shortly after that, and for once Matt understood what was going on.

A Russian operative had been kidnapping young girls all over the city. At first the police had suspected sex traffickers but, as she had explained, he was actually attempting to brainwash and train them into becoming assassins; recreating a long dead soviet project called ‘The Red Room’.

The Widow had narrowed his base of operations down to Hell’s Kitchen, but no further.

“I need help from someone who knows the area, and can go in discreetly,” she said. “The Avengers are far too noticeable, and I can’t spook this guy or those girls are dead.”

It was good, working with her. Natasha Romanoff was a great believer in old fashioned detective work, and had fought quickly, efficiently and without theatrics.

When they found the base, it wasn’t an army of crazed killers who awaited them, but a dozen scared children who just wanted to see their parents. Matt had got them out while Natasha broke both the man’s legs.

She had thanked him later, and shook his hand.

…

“Should I be jealous?” Elektra asked him later that night, as she bit down on his collarbone.

“No,” Matt chuckled. “You’re far more dangerous than she is.”

…

And now he’s in Space.

Aliens had attacked New York (again), he had been fighting them off in the Kitchen, when all of a sudden Captain America was by his side without as much as a hello.

Apparently, the others had vouched for him, he could be trusted and any friend of Nat’s was a friend of his.

And now…Space.

Specifically, they’re all on the bridge of a large ship, headed towards some distant planet to make contact with something called a Nova Core.

The Viking god of thunder has just called him a mighty warrior and a talking raccoon is carrying a bazooka over his shoulder and Matt Murdock- future President of The United States- is in Space.

Matt’s head is spinning slightly and for once he’s glad that he’s blind- if he could actually see what was going on he’s pretty sure he would cry.

A sentient tree is sitting in the corner alongside a wizard. Iron Man is flirting with a woman wearing armor and carrying a sword. The guy who can shrink is playing cards with the man who turns green and gains 300 pounds in muscle when angry. Someone is playing disco music.

Matt sits next to a guy in a suit and tie, who seems far too calm for the situation. “Can I ask you a question?” He mumbles, and the man turns towards him with what Matt imagines is a benign expression.

“Is this normal for you people?”

The man seems to ponder this for a moment. “This is a little bit unusual.” He concedes eventually, as another man saunters over to them- the bow and arrow guy.

“Phil.” He greets suit man casually. “Thought you were dead.”

“Clint.” Phil replies. “Got better. How are the kids?”

“Oh you know, little monsters, all of them.”

Clint turns his attention to Matt. “How you doing, pal?”

“He’s freaking out.” Phil supplies, helpfully.

Matt offers him a weak smile. “This is a little bit more than I’m used to.”

Clint laughs, not unkindly, and moves to join them. “If it makes you feel any better buddy, I’m going to have to take a really long vacation after this myself.”

Matt, despite himself, starts to relax a little. Yes, he thinks. Good. I’m not crazy.

Clint- Hawkeye, the back of his brain supplies- seems normal enough. So does Phil the suit. _I’m ok, just go along with this and it will make sense eventually. I managed to wrap my head around the dragon thing, didn’t I?_

He ignores to sound of the raccoon getting into a fight with earthquake girl.

“Excuse me gentlemen,” Phil sighs, “I have to break this up before she destroys the ship.” He walks off with the heavy tread of someone who deals with this shit every day.

“He made that sound like he has a ton of paperwork to finish.” Matt says with mild awe.

“To Phil, everything’s paperwork.” Clint drawls. “You got a name, friend?”

“The papers call me Daredevil.” Matt shrugs.

“That your only name?”

“I’m afraid so, no offence.”

“None taken.” Clint leans back in his seat with a chuckle. “I get it, it’s complicated.”

“Clint! Dave!” A voice bellows from the other side of the bridge, as Iron Man strides towards them.

“Of course I can’t speak for everybody.” Clint deadpans.

“How’s my favorite satanic vigilante enjoying his first intergalactic voyage?” Stark beams, and Matt can smell his excitement.

“Tony,” the archer says with practiced calm, “It’s also your first intergalactic voyage.”

“I know! This is way better than the dragon, right?”

“Yeah… It’s fun.” Matt agrees hesitantly. “What did you just call me?”

Stark snorts and sounds exasperated. “Ok look, I understand your privacy is important,” he says in the tone of someone who clearly doesn’t, “but you must have known I would figure out who you were.”

“But-“

“I know you’re David O’Hare, formally with the Marines and now working private security. I know about the incident in Hong Kong and your sister, but you don’t have to worry!” No one in this room would be here if I didn’t trust them.” He pauses for a moment. “Except the raccoon, guy picked my pocket earlier, but I doubt he cares.”

Matt quietly contemplates the size of the bullet he just dodged. He makes a mental note to send a fruit basket to David O’Hare, whoever he may be, in lew of an apology.

“How did you figure it out?” He asks carefully.

“It was simple really.” Stark replies, in an ‘It was really complicated, but I want you to know how clever I am so listen up’ tone. “I developed facial recognition software for the Pentagon back in 2001, way better than any previous programs that they had installed, even with full face masks. It never got used because of a few little niggles-“

“It couldn’t tell Asian people apart.” Clint interrupts.

“Whatever, it worked perfectly well on Caucasians. Anyway, I ran footage of you though it and on the second attempt it got you!” He finishes, and Matt can imagine him levitating with pride.

“Second attempt?”

“It’s nearly twenty years old, Clint. That’s practically antique.”

“What happened on the first attempt?” Matt asks, letting curiosity get the better of him.

Stark grumbles incoherently.

“Well Tony, what happened?” Sounds the cheerful voice of Captain America, and Matt realises with embarrassment that everybody has stopped what they’re doing to listen in on their conversation.

Stark has that effect, he supposes.

“It gave me a result, but it didn’t think logically about it. It gave me some blind lawyer who goes to church every Sunday.” Stark admits, sounding as sheepish as possible for him to be.

There’s a pause before several people burst out into laughter.

“A blind guy?”

“Works perfectly on Caucasians, huh?”

“Not only is your software racist, its bust!”

“I am Groot.”

“Twenty years old people!” Tony protests. “I’d like to see any of you do better!”

As both Vision and Bruce Banner start to point out that they, in fact, probably could do better and Captain America explains that there’s nothing wrong with going to church, Matt feels like he’s been slapped in the face.

He joins in with the laughter, all the while mentally kicking everybody in the groin.

“A blind guy?” He cackles bitterly. “That would be stupid!”

…

Ten days later Matt can’t put his tie on properly.

The Viking God of Thunder had proclaimed him a warrior worthy of Asgard last week, and he can’t put his tie on. After lying in bed for about four hours and finally talking himself into getting up and actually working today, he’s been defeated in his own damn bathroom by neckwear. He gives a disgruntled snort, throws it vaguely towards where the trashcan used to be and rests his head against the mirror.

Why does he even have a mirror?

He doesn’t have to work today. Of course he doesn’t. Foggy took on his cases Pro Bono while he was gone, told him to take all the time he needed when he got back. No one would be begrudge him an extra day.

But he needs to be normal. Needs to drink coffee and listen to the radio and fill in forms. He can’t even remember the last time he felt ordinary. Felt boring. He misses boring.

Matt wishes he could to talk to someone. Just so he could vocalize everything he has gone through in the past couple of months, if he’s being honest the past couple of years.

But everyone who could understand what he needs to talk about thinks he’s an ex-marine from the Bronx, and everyone who knows the truth couldn’t possibly comprehend what he’s going through right now.

 _Or isn’t talking to me_ , he thinks glumly of Karen.

Life has carried on without him, and all he wants now is to re-join it. Mrs Samuels is still facing eviction. Benny Sanchez is still suing that drunk driver. Neelam Kaur is still seeking full custody of her son. He can help them. He wants to help them.

Not like this though.

As he tries, so hard, to think of something he can do today that doesn’t involve going back to bed, Matt is startled by a hard knock.

 _I’m slipping_ , he thinks, _I should have been able to sense them entering the building._ He trudges towards the door, listening for the heartbeat. He stops in his tracks when he picks up a familiar, steady rhythm.

_Clint._

“What the hell?” He mutters under his breath. He had been so careful, hadn’t he? Finally he composes himself, and opens the door as nonchalantly as he can.

_I don’t know you. I don’t know you. I don’t know you. I don’t know you. I don’t -_

“Hey buddy. How are you feeling?” Clint asks cheerfully.

There’s a crowded pause before Matt stammers out a reply. “Um, I’m sorry… I think you may have the wrong apartment, who are you-“

He can sense Clint giving him a wry smile. “Can I come in?” He asks gently. Matt hesitates for a second before stepping aside, letting the older man through.

“It’s ok,” the archer says without preamble, “the others don’t know. Besides they’ve all got their own shit to deal with, and its way more interesting than the both of us, trust me.”

Matt tries to quash his panic.

“How did you know?” He asks eventually.

“I’m an intelligence agent pal, or at least I was before I retired, and you’re not as good at hiding your emotions as you think.” Matt hears him shrug. “Besides, I figured you were blind when we first met.”

“How?”

“As I said, intelligence agent, I’m good at spotting the little things.”

Suddenly, Matt’s throat is incredibly dry. He walks with perhaps a little too much purpose than necessary towards his kitchen, pours himself a glass of water and drinks it in one gulp. It dawns on him that Clint has sat down on the couch, as though this was totally normal and part of some hitherto unknown process.

_He’s waiting for me._

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He calls out.

Another shrug.

“You wanted to remain anonymous. Not surprising, considering the messes you’ve had to deal with.”

Matt walks over to him and sits down on the coffee table.

“Thank you.” He says quietly.

He feels Clint consider him. “I understand you have enhanced hearing.”

Matt nods, a little confused.

“You picking up a small hum, by any chance?”

He listens intently and finds a small, low whine, so quiet even he has to strain to hear it. It’s coming from the other man, unlike any other sound he’s heard before.

“What is that?”

“My hearing aids.” Clint explains. “When I was a kid, my old man beat over the head with a crow bar, left me completely deaf.” He leans forward onto his knees, and continues conversationally. “Got into a lot of punch ups after, kids you know? How I learnt to fight so well. I got these when I joined Shield- top of the line, undetectable. But it was hell. Fifteen years of silence and then-“

“A cacophony.” Matt finishes.

“You too, huh?” Clint chuckles. “I had to learn to speak again, understand inflections, accents, tone. My voice had broken and I didn’t even notice.” He sighs. “People stopped treating me like a moron though, that was nice.”

Matt gets it, he really does. He thinks back to the way they all laughed on the ship, and tastes bile.

“Do they know? The others?”

Clint give a short bark of laughter. “About this? Hell no! None of their business, they even kept it off record at Shield. Just my wife, my kids, Natasha. Oh,” he starts as if he’s just remembered something important. “She also knows about you by the way, I mean she didn’t say anything, but trust me she knows.”

Matt smiles and begins to feel better. There’s a comfortable silence for a few moments, before Clint speaks again. “So are you ok?”

He knows he’s not talking about his fractured ribs.

“I just wanted to help people.” He blurts outs, and before he can stop himself the flood gates open. “Just help people, the ones in my neighborhood, the ones who get shit thrown at them all day. I never intended to be part of… all this.” He finishes lamely. “This is far too much for me.”

The other man puts a hand on his shoulder. No one’s done that since his dad.

“You think you’re the only one? I can tell you right now that you’re not. And you won’t get used to it either- hell man,” he scoffs, “I’ve been doing this for over twenty years and I still have no clue what’s going on half the time.”

“So why are you still here?”

Clint ponders this for a while and leans back into the couch. “It’s my job. Tried to quit; retired, played golf, hung out with my kids but… people like us, we can’t not do this.”

Matt digests this. He’s right, of course he is. If he weren’t, Nelson and Murdock would still be in business, he and Karen may still be together… and everyone he loves may be dead.

He senses Clint surveying his living room, he can only imagine how it must look after a week of hibernation. “You need any help here? You got anyone-“

“My cleaner is coming in tomorrow, she’ll chew me out for my sloppiness then.” Mrs Samuels will also spend a good twenty minutes telling him that he doesn’t eat enough, but he doesn’t mention that.

Clint laughs, and it breaks the tension.

“Let me grab you a coffee, at least.”

Matt smiles. “I could do with a coffee.”

**Author's Note:**

> No I don't really think all the Avengers are ableist, don't at me. This was written on a train.
> 
> And if you any of you happen to be fans of my other story Lamb, yes chapter five was in my notebook too.


End file.
